“Nothing, except that there is a floor above this. We were confined there the first day of our captivity. But the sheet iron roof used for drying hemp made it so insufferably hot that we would have died if they hadn’t moved us down here,” was the reply. “Then, so far as you know, there is no way of getting out but by the door we entered?” “That’s the only way, I guess. We had better make good our escape while those rascally hangers-on about the settlement are off hunting for the fellows who rang their alarm bell.” Professor Chadwick, to whom Jack had given a hasty outline of the events of the night, moved toward the door as he spoke. But he had not taken more than two steps toward the head of the stairs when he stopped abruptly. “Hark!” he exclaimed, standing stock still in an attitude of close attention. The murmur of voices came toward the party. It didn’t take any of them long to surmise what had happened. The searching party was coming back. In a few moments their egress would be cut off and it would be impossible to escape without a fight, the outcome of which was doubtful. In this emergency Captain Andrews acted quickly. Gas-gun in hand, he ran down the stairway, shouting to the others to “come on.” They pressed close behind him, each with a grim determination to reach the doorway before the guardians of the plantation noticed that it was open. But in this they were disappointed. Hardly had Captain Andrews reached the doorway before several forms blocked it. As the doughty sea captain sprang at the foremost of them, at least a dozen of the husky henchmen of Herrera leaped on him. Before either he or Jack could use their gas-guns, Captain Andrews was borne to the ground, while on top of him were piled half a dozen of the returned search party. “Back to the upper room,” ordered Jack, “I’m going to fire my gas-gun.” The boy shouted this warning because he knew that in that narrow space the fumes of the stupefying gas were likely to prove as disastrous to the white men as to the brawny negroes. Professor Chadwick, who well knew the qualities of the gas, retreated with the others. As he did so. Jack saw a rifle aimed at him by one of the negroes who crowded the doorway. In a moment he had the gas-gun at his shoulder. He pressed the trigger and one of the sleep-laden globules shot out. It struck the armed negro in the chest, and the fellow threw up his arms with a sharp exhalation of his breath. Then he fell, as if his legs had been pulled from under him. The fellows who were piled on top of Captain Andrews released him and dashed toward their other foe. As they left him the skipper of the _Sea King_ sprang to his feet and discharged his weapon. The air became impregnated with stifling fumes. Through the reek the seaman struggled to Jack’s side, and before the dazed negroes could realize what had occurred the two whites were shoulder to shoulder on the stairway.